Hey guys! Sorry for the delay... I've been so busy lately with things. So much stress. Ugh. I forced myself to finish this just now, so I'm sorry if there are some things wrong, I haven't edited it yet. Like I said, I literally just finished it lol. I wanted to give you something!

RedDeathLvr: Erik is a sweety underneath :P I try to update! It's getting hard ;_;

TheIdesofMarch: Thank you! And yeah, still thinking on the whole living part :P I have one idea... But I'm not sure. I need to research it! Not telling though, it has to be a surprise!

Plauge's Vengence: Sorry, he is not a vampire xD Hahaha. Thank you for your review! Review more! :D

Sweet, budding love; all shapes and sizes, all different in their formation. Love comes from many different sources. Sometimes, true love may even grow from hate or fear. Other times it sneaks up on you, surprising the two people in question. Nobody knows when love will strike; only that when it does, it is almost impossible to ignore.

To ignore love is to ignore the soul. Love becomes a part of their very being, consuming and enthralling them. Suddenly, without love, they have nothing. They can't live without love, they want it, need it. Should they have to live without the other, the world becomes a shade darker…

However, to embrace this newly found love may be difficult. When you find someone that you wish to share your mind and soul to, it is frightening. How could you trust them? Suddenly, you're not so sure about the other person. But… You can't get them out of your mind.

This, my friends, is the when you fall. You fall into the deep pit, the unending doom that began the moment you met the other.

You fall in love.

And never get back out.

Doug searched through his basement. Aimee had gone home to change into something more suitable for the task ahead of them; heels would not do. He had changed as well, now sporting a black long sleeve shirt, black pants, and black combat boots, a black bandana around his forehead, and black gloves with the knuckles cut through.

Doug looked around the dimly lit room; it had various objects crowding the walls, ranging from tools to bicycles. He was searching for very specific items, however. Doug snatched a long rope with a hook from the wall and threw it over his shoulder. He spotted his lock picking tools on the table near the rope, and picked them up, placing them in his pocket. His basement was full of sketchy items he realized. He shook off the thought, attaching a hunting knife to his waist. It wasn't his fault. His family had been full of less than model citizens. He would never admit it to Abigail, but he had been a minor thief himself. Doug rarely stole now, however. He saw no need in it.

He gathered more supplies including a flashlight (attaching it to his belt), and an earpiece walkie talkie (he put it around his ear; he would give the other one to Aimee, in case they were separated). Doug slowly walked over to a small box in the very back of the basement. It had a small lock on it, and was decorated with an unusual design. He took the necklace from his neck. A key was attached to it. He slipped the key into the box and with a twist of his wrist, a small click! bounced off of the walls. Doug opened it cautiously.

Inside was a small handgun. He stared at it, contemplating. Should he bring it along and risk Aimee catching him with it? Neither of them knew he had a gun. It was strictly for emergencies. Was this an emergency? He didn't even know if they were going to find Abigail there. After an internal battle, Doug loaded the gun, put the safety on, and slipped it into his boot just as a knock came from the front door.

"Oh, Doug, someone's here!" came his grandmother's voice.

"Yes, Grandma." He said patiently. Doug walked into the house and opened the door. Aimee stood there, dressed almost exactly the same as him, with the exception that Doug's hair was not in two braids cascading down his back.

Aimee glanced at the supplies in his hand, twirling her car keys nervously, "Are you ready?" she said, clicking her own flashlight on and off.

"Yeah." Doug said. He followed her to her car, put everything in the trunk, and they drove off to the Opera House.

Abigail smiled as she heard the Phantom sing to himself. His voice was so… beautiful. There was truly nothing that could ever possibly describe it; words could not even come close. Extraordinary? Breathtaking? Electrifying? Stunning? No, they were all far too weak and meaningless.

The Phantom's voice brought her into a different world. Abigail felt herself drifting towards him as he sang the notes, perplexed by the sheer perfection of his tune. Nothing was out of place; each word meant to be sung the exact way that he had sung it. He was strong and confident; Abigail could only pray that she may become as skilled as him on the piano as he was at singing.

She sat down on the cool ground and listened peacefully. Abigail could hardly make out the words, but she didn't care. They were so pure and complex. She laid down and rested her head on the rocks. Suddenly, she felt very tired; her eyelids seemed to be like rocks. Abigail heard the singing come closer and closer to her, the voice rising and falling as her troubles seemed to fly away.

She felt the Phantom sit down next to her. Abigail felt frozen in place, she couldn't move; but she felt at ease at the same time. It was as if her body forced her to stay and listen. The Phantom's hand brushed back a piece of hair from her face. It sent shivered down her spine as she felt his gloved hand stroke her cheek. He sang the final notes under his breath, teasing her heart as the song disappeared into the air around them. She felt his hand slowly move away.

Abigail grabbed his hand, holding onto it as he jumped in fright.

"Phantom, wont you tell me your name?" Abigail asked softly.

It took a moment for him to respond, "My name is… Erik." He said softly; Abigail had to strain her ears to hear it.

"Erik?"

"Yes."

Abigail smiled gently. It was a fitting; soft, but quite sharp. She liked it.

"It's a wonderful name." Abigail complimented.

Erik helped her up before asking, "Would you like to get out of this pit for awhile?"

Abigail blinked a couple of times. Leave? Be free?...

"What do you mean?" She asked hesitantly.

"Would you like to explore the Opera House for a bit?" He stated more clearly.

She clapped her hands with excitement, "Oh, sure! I'd love to." Abigail exclaimed, "Where is the boat?" she then asked, turning in the opposite direction of the water and walking forward.

Erik grabbed her shoulder and led her in the right direction. She smiled sheepishly at the darkness as she was carefully guided into the small boat. Abigail heard Erik disappear for a moment before reappearing with her cane. He placed in on her lap.

"Oh, thanks!" Abigail said, taking the cane. She felt the boat began to move.

"I assumed you would need it. The entire Opera House is a little bit harder to manage than this underground island."

Abigail laughed in agreement. She listened to the water around them, hearing the echoes of her movements off of the walls. After awhile she concluded that she had no idea where they were any longer. Just as she was about to ask where they were going, the Phantom stopped the boat.

"We're here." He said mysteriously.

Erik took her hand and ordered her to start using her cane. The two of them went through an open hallway, and began their adventure.

Aimee glanced at Doug as they drove in silence. He sat stiffly, staring straight ahead of him. She thought that he looked rather frightening; he had a freakishly determined look in his eye. Worry surrounded Aimee as she slowed to stop at a red light.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly, looking back at the rode.

She saw Doug nod from the corner of her eye, "Yeah. Fine. I just… I don't know. It feels like it's been so long since I've seen her… But, it's only been around a week…"

"I know what you mean. Things are so different without her. I miss her." Aimee said sadly. She reached out a hand to Doug. After a moment, he took it in his own and gave it a squeeze. They didn't let go until they pulled to a stop a street away from the Opera House.

Doug got out first, going straight for the trunk. He collected the equipment and waited as Aimee slipped on a black bandana and her gloves. She nodded to him, signaling to go. The two of them snuck through the dimly lit streets. Aimee looked up; there was a full moon. Its eerie presence sent shivers down her spine as she noticed how much it looked like a face, staring at them almost accusingly…

It was witching hour.

They approached the gate, their boots creating dull thuds against the pavement. Doug made a futile attempt at opening the gate; it was locked. He whipped out his lock-picking tools, and after carefully examining them, finally chose two that seemed just right. They all looked the same to Aimee.

As Doug began to work on the lock, he whispered smugly, "You didn't think Abigail learned how to pick a lock all by her little self, did you?"

Aimee rolled her eyes, "Yes, almighty one." She hissed sarcastically, "Just get it open!"

A small click alerted them that they were now allowed to enter. The process was repeated at the main doors of the Opera House. The door creaked open loudly, revealing nothing but darkness. Aimee clicked on her light, eliminating a small circle ahead of them. Doug followed suit; they let the two bright orbs lead them inside, praying that they would guide them to Abigail… Or what was left.

"Oh, I wish I could see the Opera House." Abigail pouted.

"There is not much to see." Erik replied, looking about the gloomy walls. It was pitch black; only he would be able to see anything. His eyes had become accustomed to the dark over the years. Now that he began to think of it, he couldn't even remember how long he had even been down in his lair. It had felt like centuries.

"Well," Abigail said, holding onto his elbow as he led her through the hall, "I'm glad to finally get that smell of lake water out of my nose. The smell of fresh paint is quite welcoming."

Erik grunted in agreement. As he looked around, he could see the progress the renovators had made. They were moving along quite well, almost as if they were on a specific deadline. At the rate they were going, they would have most of the main areas almost complete in around four months. Erik frowned at the thought. In almost four months, people would be swarming the Opera House, dying for a glimpse at its beauty. He sighed.

"What's wrong?" He heard Abigail ask.

"Nothing." Erik grunted, "…It's not going to be very long now that the renovators will be finished, and I am unsure of how private my home will be after."

He looked down at Abigail and saw her frowning through the darkness. Confusion overwhelmed him. Wouldn't she be happy if there were more people? It may even be her opportunity to escape from him. Pain shot through his heart at the thought of her leaving. Erik wanted to grab her hand and make sure she wouldn't go anywhere, but he restrained himself as he led her through the doorway to the stage. The two of them walked down the aisle, their footsteps silent against the new rug that the renovators had installed.

As they walked up the steps to the stage, Erik noticed how much had changed. The seats were now a different shade of red; he didn't like it. They looked more like blood than the cheery bright rose color that they had been before. He didn't want to look at blood. Erik had seen enough of it for one lifetime, even a prolonged one.

"Where are we now?" Abigail asked

"The stage."

He let Abigail take her hand off of his shoulder as she stepped out into the middle of the large wooden floor. She tapped her foot a couple of times, listening to the echoes erupting from the ground and slamming against the walls. Erik could almost see the cogs in her head turning as she calculated how length and width. She turned back to him with a small smile.

"I'm sure it's beautiful."

"It is." Erik whispered. He looked her up and down. She seemed so fragile and weak, he wondered how on earth she had made it this far. How could she have managed in this cruel world, searching blindly for a way around everything? He imagined people to be cruel and unforgiving. Would they not take advantage of her disability? Perhaps they did use her to their advantage. A sudden anger engulfed him. Abigail was friendly and sweet. He wanted to shield her from the world, to protect her from the evil it had shown to him. Erik began to walk towards her, not hiding the pain in his eyes; he did not need to hide anything around her.

Abigail heard him. She began to adjust her cane awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Erik ignored this, stopping a few inches away from her. He lifted her chin to his face and gazed into her bleak, unseeing eyes. Such a horrible disadvantage… And yet, it was a blessing to him. Those eyes had brought her to him and ignited something within him. They let him feel something again, allowed him to finally want to protect another. Erik ran his thumb along her jaw as a small tear fell from his eye, cascading down his cheek.

He left it.

"Erik?" Abigail asked quietly.

"Yes?" he breathed.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"None of your business."

Abigail pouted. He chuckled at her, and smiled when she grinned at his laugh.

"Erik, would you teach me to play the organ?" she asked, begging.

"Of course." Erik said without thinking, "But there is no organ here."

"Well not now." Abigail replied, rolling her dead eyes, "Later."

"Then what now?"

Abigail shrugged, "I don't know. What's there to do on a stage?"

Erik brushed back a piece of her hair, laughing, "What is there not to do on stage?"

"I don't know. I've never acted before."

"You don't need to act to have something to do. Do you dance?"

"I never learned." Abigail said with a shrug.

Erik looked at her, shocked, "How could you not learn to dance?"

"I never needed to."

"You need to, now."

"Why?"

"Because I will not have anyone who cannot dance live with me." Erik said, taking his hand off of her jaw and putting it in one of her hands.

Abigail blushed deeply, "I don't know."

Erik ignored her, "It's easy." He said soothingly, taking her other hand and putting it on his shoulder. She had to reach up quite a distance; he was rather tall. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer to him, "All you need to do is move your feet." And with that, he slowly began to move.

"I'm going to step on your feet!" Abigail cried, just as her left foot crushed his right foot. He laughed, scooped her up, and placed her feet on his own. They danced around, her feet on top of his, giggling like two children drunk on candy.

Aimee and Doug moved slowly, peeking around each corner before they moved. They were silent snakes slithering around, searching for their prey. They were hunters tracking their rabbit. They were ghosts, thieves, burglars. Whatever made them feel sneakier, they would pretend to be. Aimee copied every movement Doug made, fearful she would destroy the entire operation.

Eventually they made a full circle around the Opera House without running into anything but dark corners and dust.

"Now what?" Aimee hissed.

"I'm not sure." Doug whispered back, "Let's check other rooms."

The two made their way backstage, searching through various changing rooms. Eventually, they got to one with a large mirror inside.

"Doug, I don't think we're going to find anything." Aimee said quietly, looking around, dejected.

Doug walked over to the mirror and stared at his depressed reflection. He looked tired and defeated. How could he have let them believe they would find Abigail here? It was a waste of time. They looked stupid in their black attire, believing they would need it. Frustration and agitation slowly built up within him. His shoulders began to rise and fall; his eyes, searching wildly through his face, desperate to find something that was not to be found.

Doug yelled, and threw his fist at the mirror.

It shattered, revealing a hallway. They gasped at the secret corridor, forgetting about Doug's bleeding arm for a moment. Who had built it? Why was it there?

"The Phantom is real." Aimee whispered.

Doug continued to stare wide-eyed at the opening. He couldn't believe it. Was the Phantom real? Was he here now? Did he hear the glass shatter? What happened to Abigail?

"D-doug… Your arm…"

He looked down at his arm. Blood was gushing out of it, piece of glass lodged into his wrist. Suddenly he felt dizzy. Doug sat down on the ground, growing pale.

"I feel sick." He said.

"You're retarded." Aimee growled, grabbing her bandana off of her head. She hesitantly looked at the glass, "Should I take it out?"

"Might as well." Doug mumbled.

Aimee took his arm and calculated the wound. She wasn't sure how to go about it, but she knew she had to stop the bleeding somehow. Aimee grabbed one of the glass pieces, and carefully dislodged it from Doug's flesh. He yelled out in pain, grabbing his forehead. Blood followed. Panic struck her, and she rapidly took out the other piece and wrapped her bandana tightly around the cuts. She took Doug's bandana as well, applying it to the wound.

"We need to get you to a hospital." Aimee declared.

"No… If Abigail is here, this is our only chance to get her. Whoever has her will know we know he is here now once he finds the mirror."

"You're going to die if we don't get you stitched up!" Aimee yelled.

"I don't care!" Doug yelled back, his lips paling, "I need to find her!"

A pang of jealousy shot through Aimee. Why did Doug want to find Abigail so badly? Was she not good enough of a friend to him? She frowned, busying herself with his wound.

"We need to move quickly." She murmured, scooping Doug up from his armpit. She threw his arm over her shoulder, staring ahead of her with a blank expression as Doug struggled to keep up with her when she began to move through the mirror. Broken glass crunched under their feet as they descended into the darkness.

Aimee clicked on her flashlight, eliminating the hallway. It was covered in cobwebs and unlit torches. The walls were a pale brown stone; she imagined they used to be beautiful, evoking awe and delight. Now they stood only to be an eerie warning to those who passed them by.

The corridor eventually opened up into a large tunnel of water. No boat was present.

"There…" Doug moans, weakly pointing to a large chunk of wood. It had been tossed aside and ignored for god knows how long.

"Doug, you can hardly walk, let alone swi-"

"Do it."

She sighed. Aimee helped Doug over to the wood, grabbed it, and threw it in the water. She led him to the water and placed his arms around the wood, kept the flashlight above the water, and joined him on their makeshift swimmy. The two of them kicked, propelling themselves into the gloom.

Abigail was in a trance. She had lost control of her body; only the Phantom was keeping her from collapsing onto the ground. His chest was pressed against hers as Erik guided them around the stage, throwing in a lean or a twirl as he hummed to her; they danced and pranced and glided. No; they flew. She had no idea what was going on but had no wish to understand. It was pure feeling nothing came between Erik and her. Abigail wanted to stay in this high, this exhilaration, forever.

Erik began to slow down, twirling around in the same spot as he hummed, and stopped. He leaned her down slowly; she could feel his eyes piercing into her soul. Erik whispered to her. She couldn't understand him. All she could think about was his hand on her lower back, his breath on her neck, the grip on her hand slowly tightening as he pulled her closer. Nobody had held her like this before. It was as if the darkness was engulfing her, pulling her into its warm embrace.

"Abigail." He growled. It frightened her. He sounded wild.

"Erik?" she squeaked.

Silence. He did not move; the warm breath began to slow. His clutch on her lessened and he moved away. Abigail stepped off of his feet, blushing madly.

"I have not danced in quite awhile… You must forgive me, I enjoy it greatly." Abigail heard Erik say.

"Oh, it's alright." She replied with a small smile, "I like it. It was fun."

"Perhaps we could dance again sometime?" The night asked hopefully.

"Of course."

"Wonderful! Ahem. Well, we should return now. It is quite late. You should get some rest."

Abigail suddenly felt quite tired. She yawned in agreement, stretching out her arms, "Oh! You're right. Let's go then."

She grabbed Erik's hand to let him lead her away. She felt him jump in surprise, only to return the hold.

Aimee squinted ahead of her. She could just make out a land mass about a hundred meters away.

"Doug! Look!" she whispered, pointing. She saw him lift his head off of the damp plank and groan in acknowledgment. Aimee frowned. She had no idea how to bring him back out of here; Doug barely had enough strength.

It took them a few minutes to finally reach the shore. Aimee's eyes widened as she saw more and more of the small island; there was no doubt in her mind that it belonged to the Phantom. She pulled Doug ashore, propping him up in a chair that happened to be near. He passed out. Aimee sighed; she would have to wait until he woke up. For now, she had to look for signs of Abigail.

There was a table nearby with various foods. Cereals, fruits, water, bread, grains, and a very small amount of meat was laid out to be prepared. She moved on. The organ had sheet music all along. After careful examination, she did not recognize one of the songs. It was a duet labeled "Mon Ange Tombé". She shrugged it off.

Aimee moved on, passing by a spare piano and over to the swan bed. She walked over to the wardrobe near the bed and opened it and gasped.

Clothes for a woman Abigail's age filled the drawers. They were neatly organized by color and type. There was only one person in their right mind that would do such a thing. It was then that Aimee knew. Abigail was trapped inside the Phantom's lair.

Tears ran down her eyes as she collapsed onto the ground. How could she have just left her? She was probably tortured here with his madness; a prisoner of his mind. Who knows what vile things that he had done to her body and soul. Perhaps she had gone mad too? A quiet sob escaped her lips. How greedy she was to live her life normally when Abigail was down here. They should have come sooner.

But where was she now? Aimee wiped her tears away and replaced them with confusion. If this was the Phantom's lair, where was the Phantom? Where was his prisoner? Suddenly, she heard the sound of a boat cutting through water. She peaked her head around the corner and saw the Phantom, rowing a small boat through the lake, directly towards where Doug was.

Aimee had never felt fear before that moment. Every other time she had been afraid was nonsense. The fear that consumed her now she would remember for the rest of her life, for she saw Doug's life flash before her, and end with a crack of his sleeping neck.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to run out and grab Doug. She wanted to protect him and keep him safe.

But she did not want to die. Aimee was frozen in her spot as she watched the Phantom, singing something she could not understand, his eyes locked on Doug. She looked down and grabbed her throat, stopping a gasp from escaping. Abigail lay there, dead or sleeping she could not tell.

Aimee wanted to cry, to go to sleep. She wanted all of this to be a nightmare. Surely this could not be happening, not to her. This was what happened in books and movies. It wasn't real.

Aimee squeezed her eyes shut, counted to three, and opened them. Everyone was still there, only the Phantom was closer. She did it again and again, wishing the image to disappear.

She would not wake up.

Ahhhhhhhhh! I planned on this chapter being longer and more detailed... Sorry :( I havent had time! Dont hurt meh D:

Well, time to do my homework! Haha.

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